What You Least Expected. . .
by sakachan
Summary: Trowa and Duo leave Quatre and Heero. Now, Quatre and Heero must find a way to vent their anger. Pairings: 1+2, 3+4, 2+3 Warnings: yaoi, cursing, massive OOC. Trowa and Duo bashing *sweatdrop*


Disclaimers: I don't own the rights to Gundam Wing. I *wish* I did, but when has it mattered what I want? GW belongs to Bandai, Sunrise, and whoever else has stuck their name onto the contract.  
  
  
  
Note: To all you 1+2 and 3+4 fans, I feel I must apologize. I *normally* stick with my favorite pairings (1+2, 3+4, and 5+13 ^.^). However, my severe indignation towards certain people (who will remain nameless. . . ::glare::) has caused me to break these parameters.  
  
And just so you know, Trowa and Quatre are tied with Treize and Wufei (as well as Heero and Duo) for third on my list of "Cutest Yaoi Couples." Why third? Because I like X and Tokyo Babylon better. *sticks out tongue* So there!  
  
  
  
  
  
What You Least Expected. . .  
  
  
  
[Duo's POV]  
  
Ya know, I never noticed it before. The lanky, silent Heavyarms pilot who called himself Trowa Barton was just another guy, like Quatre or Wufei. A friend even.  
  
But there's always been something about him. Something intriguing, fascinating. I don't know what it is. . . but it's been bugging me for quite some time. About a month since I met the guy.  
  
Something about his emerald green eyes, that are often hiding behind his brown hair. And his lips. . . Oh, Lord in heaven! Has he got sexy lips! They look so smooth, so rich. . . What I wouldn't give just to feel them against my skin. Quatre's so lucky!  
  
Sorry, I'm going off about him again. I mean, don't get me wrong, I really do love Heero. The way he looks at me, his gentle touch. But that doesn't mean I think about spending the rest of life with him. Truth is, I don't.  
  
And I don't want to hurt Quatre. He's a good friend, always around when you need to talk to someone. But just once, I want to know what it would feel like to be swept into the warmth of Trowa's embrace, to feel the silk of his lips pressed against mine.  
  
* * *  
  
[Trowa's POV]  
  
There's something about Duo that's always fascinated me. Maybe it's his vibrant personality, that can put a smile on even the most stoic of faces. His gorgeous, sincere smile seems to light any room he walks into (as cliché as it sounds).  
  
Not to mention his all around beauty. Smooth, sallow skin; luminescent violet eyes; long, silky, chestnut brown hair. I can't deny that I've frequently wished that I could run my fingers through his hair, feel its smooth, satiny texture against my fingers. Like Heero. I envy him so.  
  
Given, I would never willingly do anything to hurt my beloved Quatre, my angel. But I think he deserves someone better than me. Someone who can give him everything he truly wants. Actually, I don't think I'm that deserving of *anyone*.  
  
But to spend just a moment with the gorgeous pilot of Deathscythe in my arms. . . I would give anything for that opportunity.  
  
* * *  
  
Two months later.  
  
Heero stalked into the livingroom of the team's latest safehouse. Atleast, what was *left* of the team. Duo and Trowa had run off a week ago, and had yet to return. Of course, Heero knew better; they all did. The Deathscythe and Heavyarms pilots would probably never come back. Both the boys had left notes for their former lovers, simply stating that they would be leaving for a while.  
  
Through the thick shade of dark bangs that hung before his cobalt eyes, he spotted Wufei sitting contentedly on the blue and gray cloth sofa, reading a thick book whose title was written in Chinese characters. Heero sighed and took a seat on the opposite end of the couch. Wufei casually glanced up from his book. "Hi," he said.  
  
"Hey," the Japanese pilot groaned. He flung his head against the back of the sofa, his dark, tousled hair falling behind him in a river of loose, scattered strands. He picked his feet up and rested them upon the oak coffee table that stood before the couch.  
  
Wufei set his book down next to Heero's feet. He looked at the other boy with sincere compassion. "I'm sorry about what happened with Duo."  
  
"Me too," Heero nodded. "Me too. . ."  
  
"Hey guys," Quatre spoke as he stepped through the small door of the safehouse. His fluffy blonde hair shadowed his melancholy blue eyes. He was taking the situation much harder than Wufei or Heero had expected.  
  
"Hi Quatre," Wufei said with a sympathetic smile. Quatre simply stared at him with numb, pale blue eyes. He shuffled over to the couch and found a seat between the Wing and Shenlong pilots.  
  
Quatre buried his small, young face into his hands. "They're never coming back," he moaned, unconsciously leaning against Wufei. The Chinese boy put a reassuring arm around the Sandrock pilot's shoulders. "Never never never never never. . ."  
  
"Fuck them," Heero muttered beneath his breath. Wufei and Quatre looked up at him with surprise.  
  
"EH?!!" they crowed in unison.  
  
"They left us. . . that was their decision." Heero slid down into his seat, his sock-clad feet moving further toward the north edge of the table. "They wanted a change. And that's what they got."  
  
"Whatever," Quatre grumbled.  
  
Heero continued. "Hey, if Duo wants to come running back, he can do that, but he can go fuck himself, selfish son-of-a-bitch."  
  
"Yeah," Quatre perked up. "You're right. I mean, Trowa wasn't that great. Given, he was a demon in the sack. But outside our sex life, he was as sexy as a stucco wall with Relena-sama's picture painted on it." All three boys shuddered.  
  
"He wasn't so wonderful!" Quatre went on. "Fuck him! Fuck him and his damned circus." He quickly got up from the couch and ran to the door. He swung it wide open, yelling at the top of his lungs,  
  
"FUCK YOU, TROWA BARTON, IF THAT *IS* YOUR REAL NAME!! I HOPE YOU'RE HAPPY WITH YOUR NEW WHORE!! MAYBE *HE* CAN TEACH YOU HOW TO PLAY THE FLUTE, YOU NO-TALENT PIECE OF SHIT POSER!!!" The petite Arabian was quickly pulled away from the door by Wufei's strong hands.  
  
"I think that's enough of that," Wufei stated calmly. "You don't want the neighbors to call the cops on you, do you?"  
  
"Fuck that," the blonde replied beneath his breath.  
  
"I don't know if you guys want to hear this. . ." Wufei started uneasily. Heero and Quatre turned and looked at him with wide, interested eyes.  
  
"If you've got something bad to say about those two sluts, be my guest!" Quatre chimed.  
  
"Yeah," Heero added with a nod.  
  
"Well, actually. . ." Wufei tugged at his collar slightly. "I'm kind of glad those two left. They annoyed the hell out of me. Especially Trowa. I don't know what it was, but something about that guy seemed a little. . . well. . ."  
  
"Queer?" Quatre suggested.  
  
"Yes! That's the word!"  
  
"Oh, I *so* agree! That son-of-a-bitch cried more than *I* do! I tell ya, he had one hell of a mask made out for himself! Acting so silent and serious; the guy was a wimp! He could barely shoot a gun straight. Why do you think he had to use so many bullets for Heavyarms?" Quatre let out a berating laugh. "And he's supposed to be an acrobat, but he's not even that flexible! He is such a fucking poser!"  
  
"Oh man, you think Trowa was bad?" Heero spoke with a humored grin. "Try Duo! He acted so possessive of me whenever Relena was around, but any other time he wouldn't give me the time of day! He said *I* was unresponsive, but that's only because he'd give it more to his pillow than to me!"  
  
Quatre and Wufei turned bright red with laughter. Actually, Quatre took on a color equal to that of a steamed lobster or Treize's prized roses; Wufei's color change was not as noticeable, due to the tan of his skin.  
  
"And that braid of his! He was so damn obsessed with his braid, everyday I wished you would cut it off that oversized head of his," Heero said to Wufei. Wufei grinned.  
  
"You could've asked, you know. I would have been glad to do it."  
  
"While you're at it, can you cut Trowa's bang off too? That thing's so damn annoying!" The other's began to laugh even harder at the Sandrock pilot's comment.  
  
"Sure! No problem! In fact, why don't we simply shave their heads? I mean, Duo's always shown an interest in looking like a priest. . . and a Buddhist monk is *like* a priest. . ." Wufei smirked. Quatre and Heero toppled over each other, and their sides began to fill with a sharp, jutting pain.  
  
After many minutes, their laughter slowed down to mere chuckling. They sighed in unison, resting their heads against the wall near the front door.  
  
"And I always thought you liked Trowa," Quatre said jokingly.  
  
"Oh, I did. . . when he wasn't in the room!" Wufei chuckled. Quatre and Heero laughed again.  
  
"Well now that we've gotten *that* off our chests. . ." Heero sighed.  
  
"I'm hungry," Quatre groaned.  
  
"Yeah. . . me too," Heero said. Wufei nodded.  
  
"I think we should celebrate our newfound freedom with pizza and beer," Heero suggested.  
  
"LET'S GO!!" Quatre chimed.  
  
"Want to come?" Heero asked Wufei.  
  
"Sure, why not?" Wufei shrugged. Suddenly, an impish look begot his thin, almond shaped eyes. "You know, I know a place that sells spray paint for a fairly low price. . ." His thin lips pressed to form a devilish smile.  
  
Quatre and Heero shared in his smile. "Really?" Quatre purred with a smirk.  
  
* * *  
  
Duo sighed as he stepped out of the passenger side of a blue Chevy pickup. Trowa hopped out of the driver's side and grabbed the two duffel bags that rested in the shallow truck bed. The two boys stared up at the safehouse where their team had been located. A frown formed upon Duo's full, pale lips.  
  
"I hope Heero's not too mad. . ." he said woefully. "I mean, we did leave kind of suddenly. And he probably doesn't even want to look at me. . ."  
  
Trowa frowned. He stepped over to the American and placed a soft, chaste kiss upon the boy's furrowed brow. Duo's expression lightened, and he smiled up at the tall French pilot.  
  
"It's been two weeks. . . the wounds are probably still fresh," Trowa said in his usual quiet tone. He rested his head against his braided lover's head. "But we have to face them some time. Just ignoring this will hurt us all."  
  
Duo sighed with a shrug. "You're right. . . we have to face them."  
  
Hand in hand, the two of them made their way up the steps leading to the safehouse door. As they came closer, the two of them noticed a small, folded note taped to the door. They looked at each other for a moment, then Duo removed the paper from the door. Opening it cautiously, he was relieved to find the few simple words written neatly on the note.  
  
  
  
Trowa and Duo-  
  
Though Heero and I are still perturbed by your recent actions, we've chosen to accept the fact that you two have decided to be with each other, rather than us. We hope you two are happy together, and we wish you the best.  
  
See you around,  
  
Quatre and Heero  
  
  
  
"Well, I'm glad to see there's no hard feelings," Duo smiled. Trowa nodded. They unlocked the small lock to the door and entered the dark safehouse livingroom.  
  
"Hmm. . . not home," Duo said. Trowa shrugged and let the bags fall to the ground with a 'thump.'  
  
"Better turn on a light," Trowa said. He flipped the switch.  
  
And revealed the heavily spray painted room. Red, black, green, and blue spray paint covered nearly every inch of the white stuccoed room. Duo gasped at the sight. The words, "Duo is a slut," and "Trowa's a pussy," were the most common words the American spotted. There was also the occasional "Learn to play a flute, you fucking circus side-show act!" and "Duo is the god of douchebags, NOT death!"  
  
"What the hell?" Duo gasped in shock. "Why. . ."  
  
Trowa ignored Duo's whimpering, spotting another small note resting upon the coffee table. He opened it, and read:  
  
  
  
  
  
Trowa, if you're reading this, that means you must've seen Heero and my artwork. Isn't it lovely? You always did admire fine art.  
  
Anyway, I hope there are no hard feelings about our trashing of the safehouse. Guess you'll have a lot to clean up this weekend. Heero and I were in mourning of our loss, and this was the only creative way to ease our angst.  
  
Anyway, we had to leave town for a while. But we told the landlady you and Duo would fit the bill for damages and other expenses. Hope you don't mind.  
  
Well, daylight is fleeting. See you around!  
  
Quatre  
  
  
  
Trowa stared at the note in his hand for a second, then let the paper fall to the ground. He turned back to Duo with wide, utterly surprised eyes. Duo stared back.  
  
"I don't think they've *quite* forgiven us yet. . ." he spoke with numbness.  
  
* * *  
  
Heero barreled down the highway in the 'borrowed' green and black jeep he had taken from a grocery store parking lot.  
  
"WOOOO HOOOOO!!!" Quatre yelled out the rear side window. "Free at last! Free at last!! Thank GOD Almighty, I am FREE. . . AT. . . LAAAST!!!" He began to laugh in a high pitch, maniacal laughter. Wufei grinned, and pulled the Arabian back into the car.  
  
"Happy to be free?" Wufei asked with cheerful sarcasm.  
  
"Hell yeah!! That fuck of a boyfriend is FINALLY out of my life!!" He let out another high pitch cheer, then slumped onto the backseat of the vehicle.  
  
"And here I thought you two were *happy* with each other," Wufei chuckled.  
  
"Oh, we were. . . for a while. . . but then he just started to get annoying! I mean, what the hell was up with that whole 'Angel' thing anyway? He want to screw some imaginary celestial being or something?"  
  
"Well, Duo *was* 'Maxwell's Little Angel,'" Heero said, smiling. "Of course, he might as well be imaginary, what with that whole pillow fetish!" All three boys broke out into a fit of mad laughter.  
  
"Hey Wufei!" Quatre said, peering over the Chinese boy's shoulder into his dark eyes. The blonde's breath smelled of Sapporo. Actually, all of their breath smelled that way.  
  
Each of them had drank at least three Sapporos each before hitting the road to go wherever. Quatre's drunkenness had been obvious by his third drink, when he had gone up to get a fourth beer, but instead fell back onto the sofa, knocking Wufei into Heero. Heero, being the 'Perfect Soldier' that he was, was barely affected, even though he had had four and a half drinks. Quatre had finished up the last of Heero's drink, in his mad search for 'inspiration for his art.'  
  
"Hey Wufei!" the Sandrock pilot repeated.  
  
"Hmm?"  
  
"You got anyone?" the boy slurred.  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"You know. . . are you seeing anyone?" Quatre's large, doe-like blue eyes, glazed over with insobriety, stared at Wufei in an almost awe.  
  
"Why do you ask?" Wufei responded calmly.  
  
"I dunno. . . you seem like such a cool guy. . . kinda hot too. . ." Quatre hiccuped.  
  
"How incapacitated *is* he?" Wufei asked Heero.  
  
"He's an OAV short of a series," Heero responded with a chuckle.  
  
"Hey. . ." Quatre said sleepily, turning his head around to peer out the back window. "It's only 250 miles to Vegas. . ." Hiccup.  
  
"Cool," Wufei nodded.  
  
"Let's go play the slots! I stole Trowa's wallet before we left. . . got $400." Hiccup.  
  
"Sounds like a good idea. Heero?" Wufei turned to the Japanese pilot.  
  
"Pleeeease Heero?" Quatre stared at Heero with large, begging eyes.  
  
Heero sighed, then pressed his lips into a sinister smile. "Let's go," he said, pressing his foot to the gas pedal.  
  
  
  
Owari  
  
  
  
  
  
Weren't expecting THAT, now were you? Well, neither was I! But I got started, and it seemed to flow pretty well. Sorry for all the cursing, though. I didn't know I'd get so involved with this thing. ::massive sweatdrop::  
  
But I want everyone to know that I love Trowa, *especially* when he's with his proper lover. And, unless provoked, would never cause harm to him like I have here. *sad, teary-eyed Saka-chan* GOMEN NASAI, TROWA-KUN!!! GOMEN NASAI!!!! *falls over and dies* 


End file.
